Royals of Villain Academy 3: Sinister Wizardry Page 4

  “You won’t have a whole team behind you this time,” Malcolm said. The remark didn’t sound as threatening as I’d have expected the heir of Nightwood to make it. He was studying me, but his attention felt less aggressive than I was used to from him, as if he was evaluating me in a broader way rather than simply as a target.

  Of course, I didn’t want this guy evaluating me in any way at all. Any weaknesses he thought he’d spotted, it was fearmancer nature to exploit—and Malcolm seemed to enjoy exploiting weaknesses as often as he could. He’d messed with me way too many times and in too many horrible ways in the past for me to patiently wait around to find out what he was up to now.

  “I’ll remind you of that when you’re eating my dust,” I shot back. “For now, how about you make things easier for yourself and just fuck off.”

  I spun on my heel, hearing his sharp intake of breath behind me, half hoping that might be the end of it for now but knowing it probably wouldn’t be. A second later, he spat out one of his casting words.

  Advanced mages made up strings of syllables or contradictory phrases to direct their spells so that their target and anyone observing wouldn’t be able to anticipate the effect. I knew exactly what Malcolm had tried to throw at me in an instant, though. He’d hurled a general insight spell at me like a spear aimed straight at my mental shields.

  I hadn’t been prepared for him to try insight. The wall around my mind could fend off a fair bit of magic in general, but I’d been focusing on the idea of preventing persuasive castings. The sharp edge of Malcolm’s spell split a small crack in the barrier that made me wince. I murmured under my breath to tighten the layer of protection against that kind of intrusion.

  Which was exactly what the Nightwood scion must have wanted. The second I’d shifted my focus, he threw out another comment, this one with the eerie lilt of magical compulsion.

  “Stop walking.”

  The persuasion spell pierced through my momentarily scattered defenses like a needle, finding the tiniest gap to stab into my brain. My feet jarred to a halt under me. Shit.

  I heaved power into my shields. He’d only told me to stop. I wasn’t letting him get in another command.

  “Nice try,” I said. “That’s as much as you’re going to get. And you know what, I bet I can make it to the Stormhurst Building without doing any walking at all.”

  Malcolm let out a quiet growl. “Lift,” I murmured to my feet, and with a jerk I propelled myself an inch off the ground. “Float.”

  It took enough energy that sweat started to trickle down my back, but I drifted slowly along the path the way I’d meant to go.

  “Come back here,” Malcolm ordered, but the persuasion spell bounced off my defenses this time. His feet thumped against the path as he strode after me. He tossed out another nonsensical casting word—and an invisible wall slammed my shoulder, spinning me around. We were switching to Physicality now, were we?

  I glared at him as I caught my balance and opened my mouth to shatter the force that had hit me—and a brawny figure hurtled into my field of view, straight toward Malcolm.

  “Leave her alone,” Connar Stormhurst barked, and shoved the guy he’d once called his best friend so hard Malcolm stumbled right off the path.

  Malcolm whipped around. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, staring at the Stormhurst scion. His face had flushed to an angry red hue.

  I was staring at Connar too. The most physically intimidating of the scions had also proven to be the kindest for a little while. Connar and I had ended up bonding—in, er, ways both emotional and physical—during secret talks in his favorite clifftop spot away from the rest of campus. But he’d proven where his real loyalties lay by tearing me down on Malcolm’s behalf not long after.

  He’d said something to me about making up for it the last time I’d seen him, the night of the League feast. I’d been shell-shocked from Professor Banefield’s murder, so my memory of that moment was blurry. I hadn’t really considered whether or how he’d follow through on that promise.

  Apparently he’d meant it—even more than I’d have imagined. He stepped between Malcolm and me, glowering at his friend, his entire muscular frame tensed. I’d seen him come at people who threatened the other scions before, but I’d never seen him turn physical aggression on anyone within the pentacle.

  Neither had anyone else, from the expressions our spectators around the green were sporting. I had a feeling every mage on campus would hear about this confrontation by the end of the day.

  “You’ve been waging this war long enough,” Connar said to Malcolm. “It’s time for it to stop. And since you didn’t listen to me when I told you that, I’ll just have to make you stop.”

  The spell that had pushed me around had faded. As I let my feet touch the ground, I realized the effect of Malcolm’s persuasive spell had wisped away too. He might have been able to jab it through my shields, but not very deeply. I shifted my feet, and they moved just fine.

  “I’m okay,” I said cautiously. “I just want to get to the assembly.”

  Connar eased over to stand beside me. Malcolm stepped back onto the path, rage and betrayal etched all over his face. “I’ve been there for you through everything,” he started.

  “Right,” Connar said before he could go on. “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do—look out for the other scions. Not tear them down. The pentacle shouldn’t be divided, and it’s not Rory who’s dividing us. It’s you.”

  He turned to me. “Let’s go.”

  I nodded, a little stunned, and we turned our backs on Malcolm, who for once in his life was completely speechless. But as I set off for the Stormhurst Building, I couldn’t help wondering if what Connar had just done had ended the war—or pushed it to an entirely new level.

  Chapter Five

  Rory

  My altercation with Malcolm had sapped away most of the time before the assembly. Now that there was no spectacle to watch, a whole bunch of students were making their way to the Stormhurst Building. Connar walked steadily beside me, his jaw still tight, the muscles in his arms flexed.

  I had no idea what to say to him. The history between us had gotten so messy.

  “Thank you.” That seemed like a reasonable place to start. But I also had to add, “You didn’t have to jump in. I can handle Malcolm.”

  “I know,” Connar said in his low voice, which was no longer taut with anger. “But I meant what I said. This feud has gone on too long, and I know you never wanted a war in the first place. Malcolm’s just…” He sighed. “Maybe if enough of us put our foot down, it’ll snap him out of the mindset he’s gotten into.”

  He paused and ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I should have spoken up to him sooner—I obviously never should have lashed out at you the way I did. All I can say is… he has been there for me in an awful lot of ways for an awfully long time, and I’d gotten into the habit of trusting his judgment over my own. I didn’t want to be the kind of guy who’d betray his best friend. I don’t think I am, though. He needs to hear this. He needs to know it’s gotten to be too much.”

  The pain in his expression made my chest ache in spite of everything. “Well, I’m still not happy about how horrible you were to me, and I wish you’d had this change of heart sooner, but… I am glad that you’re seeing things that way now.”

  “I’m sure it’ll take time for you to trust me again,” he said. “I don’t want to be pushy. You should just know that I’m on your side, officially.” He glanced around at our fellow students, many of whom were continuing to shoot curious glances our way. “And very publicly, apparently. If you ever do feel you can turn to me and need to, I’ll be there.”

  “Okay,” I said, with a little relief that he wasn’t pressing me to sort out my feelings or grant full forgiveness right this second. “I’ll keep that in mind. And, just so you know, I really did mean that ‘Thank you.’ I get that it must be hard to stand up to him after being friends that long.”

 
Imogen waved to me as I came into the gym where the assembly was being held, and as I headed over, Connar drifted away. He was keeping his word about giving me space, at least.

  The forty or so students already in the space were buzzing with anticipatory chatter. I spotted Declan standing with several of the professors and a few other teacher’s aides by the small platform that’d been set up, but he wasn’t looking my way. I swallowed hard.

  Things had gotten messy between him and me too, and that was mostly my fault. The trip to my family’s country property near here should have been just a brief interlude away from the pressures of the school and everything else he was dealing with. A thank you for everything he’d been doing to protect me from larger forces that wanted to manipulate me behind the scenes—and, as it’d turned out, a chance to act on the attraction we’d held in check up until then.

  And now that moment of indulgence could screw up everything he’d worked for. He’d helped me so much, but he had to keep his distance from here on. I had to make sure I didn’t show our relationship had become anything beyond student and aide. I owed him that much.

  “Do you have any idea what the project is going to be?” I asked Imogen as I came up beside her.

  She shook her head, one of her usual silver clips flashing in her blond hair—a sparrow today. “No idea. They never let anything slip until the official announcement. Oh, there’s Ms. Grimsworth. She’ll deliver the news.”

  She rocked on her feet in anticipation. A few last students trickled in after the headmistress’s entrance, a familiar head of floppy copper hair among them. I tensed at the sight of Jude, wondering if he was planning on making good on his promise to find some way to win me over before the assembly started, but before he’d looked my way, Ms. Grimsworth had gone up to the podium and picked up the microphone.

  “Hello to our senior students who are participating in this year’s summer project,” she said in her cool voice. She looked prim as ever in her navy dress suit with her graying hair pulled into its tight coil at the back of her head. Her beady eyes skimmed over the crowd in the gym. “I know you’re all eager to get started, so I won’t keep you waiting. This year’s project was proposed by Professor Crowford, although I expect it will involve many talents other than Persuasion.”

  The Persuasion professor tipped his head to her where he was standing by the edge of the platform with the other teachers. I thought the black streaks in his silver hair had gotten thinner since the last time I’d seen him.

  Ms. Grimsworth leaned over the podium. “We’ll have fifteen Nary students on campus for the summer session. Each of you will be assigned one as your target. You must come up with a specific outcome you wish to achieve with that student—an action you’d like to see them take, a habit formed—the larger and harder the impact earning you a higher score, naturally. Over the course of the next six weeks, you’ll attempt to sway your target along your chosen course.”

  What? A wave of cold horror swept through me. It was bad enough that the administration brought in the nonmagical students to be used in more subtle ways without them knowing, but to instruct us to actively set out to alter their lives in some major way…

  The headmistress wasn’t even finished. “As you can probably determine, there are many more of you than there are Nary students. Your target will have three or perhaps even four other mages also trying to influence their behavior. If your opponents are careful, you won’t even know who you’re competing against. So you will not only need to affect your target if you wish to win, but offset the effects of other magic as well.”

  I glanced at Imogen, but she appeared to be taking this assignment in stride. Of course, she’d always been a little hesitant about including Shelby in any friendly activities. To her—to everyone in the room other than me, by the looks of things—there was nothing odd about this proposal at all.

  “Throughout all this, you must remember the policies of Bloodstone University,” Ms. Grimsworth added. “If you are careless enough that your target or any other Nary realizes that you’re working a supernatural influence on them, you’ll be immediately disqualified. Slow and steady will win the day here. Now come up and receive your assigned student.”

  She read out our names one by one, in alphabetical order by last name. That meant I was the third student called. Professor Crowford had stepped up in front of the podium to distribute the envelopes. He gave me a small smile as he handed mine to me. “I hope to see great things from you during your first summer project, Miss Bloodstone.”

  Apparently the disgust twisting my stomach wasn’t printed all over my face. I slipped away to the wall and opened my envelope.

  “My” Nary was a senior student in the architecture program, which I hadn’t even known was one of the scholarship offerings. Benjamin Alvarez, twenty years old, with a shock of black hair and an intent expression in the photograph that came with the brief information sheet, which also told me he was staying in dorm A4. The second paper held his class schedule for the summer. The other blanks in my knowledge about him, I guessed I was supposed to fill in myself.

  I scanned the gym as others went up to grab their envelopes. At least two other students had also been assigned Benjamin. What were they going to try to change about him?

  What was I going to do to him?

  The queasiness in my belly expanded. Would it be enough just to set out to stop him from being affected by any other magic? I should be able to manage that if I worked hard enough.

  That wouldn’t help the fourteen other Naries my fellow fearmancers would be bending to their will, though.

  The last of the envelopes must have been handed out. Ms. Grimsworth started talking again.

  “The Nary students will be arriving tomorrow. By the end of that day, you must turn in a paper with your mission statement, which I will hold onto. This allows us to confirm that whatever effects you achieve line up with your goals. And of course, there’s the matter of the prize. As usual, the winner can request any object in their possession to be enchanted to the purpose of their choice by the professor of their choice. You could have one of these experts’ skills at your disposal. Let’s see who’s up to the challenge. May the best mage win!”

  It took a moment after I knocked on Ms. Grimsworth’s office door before the headmistress answered. She peered at me, her expression puzzled before she schooled it to be impassive. I guessed she hadn’t expected anyone to come calling quite this soon after the assembly. I’d let my feelings stew for about twenty minutes and then been unable to do anything other than march over here.

  “Miss Bloodstone,” she said. “Come in. Is there something I can help you with?”

  I eased inside and waited until she’d shut the door. Nothing was burning on the shelves that lined her office walls, but a powdery whiff of incense smoke lingered in the air. I shifted on my feet on the thick rug.

  “I hope so,” I said. “I—I wanted to raise an objection to the focus of the summer project.”

  The headmistress’s eyebrows jumped up. “And what objection is that?”

  I clasped my hands together in front of me to stop them from fidgeting. “The Nary students come here without realizing anyone might be using magic on them. I already have a problem with the pranks and so on that get played on them during the rest of the school year. But this is encouraging us to yank them around and change them to our whims… It just isn’t right.”

  “Mages have always needed to manipulate the nonmagical population in order to maneuver around them.”

  “But this isn’t for survival,” I protested. “This is going out of our way to treat them like puppets. Isn’t that the opposite of learning how to live productively alongside them?”

  Ms. Grimsworth’s mouth had tightened. “I believe this assignment will actually stretch all of our students’ abilities in that area—to help you learn the limits of how far you can extend your magic without tipping off the Naries to a supernatural presence.”

  “But
—”

  “Miss Bloodstone,” she said firmly. “The project has already been decided. The professors take turns choosing on the content, and Professor Crowford’s submission meets our guidelines. I don’t expect the Nary students will come to any major harm. If they do, then please make that known to me. In the meantime, you may approach the project however you’d like, but the project itself stands.”

  She wasn’t budging. I wasn’t sure how much hope I’d really had that she would, but my spirits deflated anyway.

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  I couldn’t think of any argument that would overcome her last statement. “Yes. But I might be back.”

  Did the corner of her mouth twitch upward just for a second? I might have imagined that. “And if you do, I’ll be happy to hear your further concerns.” She paused. “Have you been well during your break? I understand it may have taken some time to recover from recent… events.”

  From watching my former mentor stab himself to death in front of me? Yeah, that had been an event all right. I suppressed a cringe.

  “I’m still upset about what happened, obviously,” I said. “But I don’t think it’ll get in the way of my work here. I suppose… Professor Viceport is still my mentor now?”

  I’d have rejoiced if the headmistress had corrected me. Viceport, whose specialty was Physicality, held some kind of a grudge against me that I hadn’t figured out, other than she seemed to dislike the fact that I was a Bloodstone at all.

  But Ms. Grimsworth was nodding. “You’ll continue to meet with her once a week to discuss any concerns. We’ll be distributing the new schedules later today. Classes continue during the summer in a modified form to directly tackle aspects of your project.”